Stay
by BBBon
Summary: "I think my mom's sick." Jake feels the panic set in immediately, but Quentin shakes his head. "Not like that. She always gets sick. Like she doesn't feel good, and she just has to sleep a long time. And she doesn't want to talk to me and can't play with me… I'm just supposed to go to my grandma's when she gets sick." post 1x09


STAY  
I don't own Containment or any of the characters.

He's exhausted. Not that that's unusual or anything. He's _always_ exhausted. It's worse today, though. He's never felt so drained in his life. Every bit of energy, every ounce of mental coherency, every _emotion_ … it's all just gone.

The hospital feels cold and unwelcoming. He's not used to that. It's become his safe spot, the place he's started thinking of as home in some weird messed up way. He knows that's crazy. He shouldn't be thinking of a place where bodies are piling up and deadly illness lurks around every corner ihome/i, but he can't help it. It's not the place, though, it's the who. He's used to feeling uplifted when he walks through the glass doors, knowing who's waiting for him in the storage wing.

But he doesn't feel that now.

He doesn't really feel anything. He just walks mindlessly through the halls until he reaches the makeshift bedroom. He's used to being confronted with mass chaos when he gets to that room. Kids are always running around, playing tag, screaming, laughing… But now there's none of that. There's just one small person sitting all alone on one of the many cots, just staring aimlessly at nothing and looking way too helpless.

His first instinct is to disappear again. He's hot and sticky, and he needs to wash all of the dirt and grime and who knows what else off of his skin. He almost just drops his things and heads to the showers, but he can't do that. Not when Quentin looks like that.

"What's up?" He tosses his stuff on to the nearest cot and starts pulling off his gear. It's so hot outside that he's not sure how more people aren't dropping form heat stroke. Maybe they are, though. It's not like anyone can call 911 and report that stuff, so he really has no idea. He also finds it a little unnerving to realize how little he cares.

Quentin looks up at him, and the redness of his eyes is enough to make Jake want to bang his own head against the wall. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do. There's not one damn thing he can say or do to make things any better, so he just bites the inside of his cheek and pretends not to notice.

"I'm hungry." Quentin's voice sounds quiet and a little weak.

"You want dinner?" He can do that. He can at least feed the kid. He wonders if Quentin's eaten anything all day. For some reason, it didn't occur to him before leaving this morning to make sure that there was easily accessible food or someone to make it. One day in, and he's already failing.

He pulls the box of meals down off the shelf, and Quentin comes over so they can look through them. They're all disgusting. Everything in here tastes worse than the thing before it, and they both know it. But they also both know there aren't any other options.

"I know it sucks, dude." He watches Quentin study a box of pasta and mixed veggies with a look of mild disgust. "I wish we had something better."

Quentin doesn't say anything. He just hands over the box, and Jake takes that as his cue that this is the chosen meal. He gets up and fills the coffee pot up with water from the sink, leaving it to boil while he starts unwrapping the disgusting dried food. He's focusing on trying to cut through the plastic when he hears Quentin right behind him.

"I think my mom's sick."

It feels like someone literally stabs him in the gut. Jake feels his vision go blurry, and the box in his hand starts to shake a little as he turns around.

"Did she… Did…" He swallows and tries to form a sentence. "Did Dr. Cannerts…"

But Quentin shakes his head. "Not like that." Jake's confused, and the overall panic in his body doesn't calm down at all. "She always gets sick. Sometimes." Quentin looks at the floor and then back up. "Like she doesn't feel good, and she just has to sleep a long time. And she doesn't want to talk to me and can't play with me… I'm just supposed to go to my grandma's when she gets sick."

Jake understands, and the wave of relief that rushes over his body feels out of place. He shouldn't feel so much relief when a little kid is standing there looking worried and scared out of his mind.

"It's okay," he says, mostly because he doesn't know what else to say. He knows it's not okay, but he has to say _something_. "I'll go see her. She's probably just really tired."

Quentin just looks at him. It's obvious that he doesn't buy it, and he has no reason to. He doesn't say anything, though, just lowers his eyes and looks at the floor. There's a lot more that Jake could probably say, but he has no idea what any of it is. So he just waits until the water heats up and then finishes making the pasta. Everything about it is disgusting- the look of it, the smell… He tries not to think about the fact that there's an unending food supply just a few blocks away because every time he thinks about anything _outside_ of the cordon, he ends up fighting away just a little more rage.

"Be careful, it's hot." He hands the box to Quentin who looks at it with similar disdain. He takes it, though, and sits down on the edge of one of the cots. He still doesn't say anything, and it's mostly just really awkward. He wonders if he should try more small talk, but he gets the feeling that Quentin wouldn't really be up for it, so he decides to just avoid it altogether. At least for now. "Hey, I'm gonna go check on your mom. You should go hang out with Thomas for a little while after you eat. You can share these." He goes through his things and then drops a stack of comics on the cot beside Quentin. Jana found them while rummaging through people's lockers looking for baby supplies.

Quentin looks temporarily excited for the comics, but it only lasts a second. He looks up at Jake, and Jake's kind of floored by how tiny he looks. Even smaller than usual. He's definitely lost some weight he couldn't really afford to lose since they've been in here, but it's more than that. He looks younger, more helpless than usual or something. It's obvious that he wants to say something, but his lips don't move. Jake waits, though, and Quentin finally swallows and forms a few words.

"Don't be scared of her. She can't help it."

Jake doesn't know what to say. He just stands there for a few seconds, and then he nods. He knows this is his opportunity to say something helpful or useful, but he's got nothing. So he just nods and tries to force a halfway encouraging smile that feels really fake and out of place, considering smiling is the ilast/i thing he wants to do right now.

With nothing else to say, he just heads out of the room and downstairs to the quarantine. There are actually less people down here than normal. That should be encouraging, but Jake's pretty sure it just means there are less people still alive to actually contract the virus. He briefly considers stopping by Thomas's room, but he doesn't. He's not sure he can put on enough of a fake smile to give the kid any semblance of hope. Instead, he just turns down the longest hallway and heads for Katie.

She's at the very end of the hall, and he can see her well before he actually gets to her window. She's in bed, facing the other wall, and she doesn't seem to be moving at all. When he makes it to the window, he looks in and wonders if she's actually asleep. He raises a hand and gently taps on the glass, not wanting to disturb her if she's sleeping. She doesn't move, so he just leans his forehead against the glass for a second and takes a moment to ibreathe/i. His eyes slip shut, and he just focuses on filling his lungs with air. The hospital master key feels really heavy in his pocket, and it takes every bit of willpower he has not to open the door and go in there. They shouldn't have given it to him. It's too much responsibility and too much temptation. It's supposed to be meant for emergencies, but he can't think of anything in the world more urgent right now than making sure she's okay.

He sits down on the floor, his back against the wall and his head falling back against the glass. He knows it's stupid. He's not accomplishing anything at all by sitting outside her room like this, but he just wants to be close to her. He should have been right here all day. He should never have left, and he feels so much guilt and responsibility. He knows logically that none of it's his fault. It's not his fault that she got infected, and it's not his fault if she's having a low episode. But it iis/i his fault. He should never have left her yesterday. If he hadn't, she wouldn't be in there right now. He could have stopped her, isaved/i her. But he didn't. And he didn't stop this, either. Maybe if he would have stayed right here all day, he could have distracted her. They could have talked about anything and nothing, and she wouldn't have had time to dwell on the situation and fall into depression. He could have stopped this, too, and he didn't.

He closes his eyes, trying to fight off all the emotions that are smothering him. He can feel the tightness in his throat and the stinging behind his eyelids. If he lets his guard down for even a second, he's going to end up sobbing, and he can't do that. He has to keep it together.

He stays there for awhile. He doesn't look at the time, but he knows it's got to be well after dark. He doesn't do anything, just sits on the floor and stares down the hallway. It's quiet down here with just a few of the other rooms occupied. Nobody comes by. No doctors, nurses, not even anyone in a hazmat suit pushing a food cart. Jake knows it's because there's hardly anyone left to do those things, but he doesn't let himself think of the reasons why. He sits there for a really long time until his eyes eventually slip shut and he drifts off. He tries to fight it for as long as he can, but he hasn't slept more than an hour at a time in two weeks, so fighting the constant state of exhaustion isn't something he's great at. His nap doesn't last long, though- it never does because he's an even lighter sleeper than normal these days. He wakes up to the slightest movement or noise, and his eyes blink open when he feels the glass bump slightly behind him.

He turns around to see the back of Katie's head. She's on the floor on the other side of the glass. They're almost back to back, and she's got both arms wrapped around her middle while she rests her head against the glass.

"Hey." His voice sounds hoarse and broken, so he swallows to try and repair it a little.

Katie doesn't say anything. She doesn't even turn her head to look at him. She just sits there, wrapped up in herself and staring blankly ahead.

"You hungry?" He knows it's the dumbest possible thing to say, but he doesn't know what else to do. "I can go get you some food."

She still doesn't answer, and he wonders if she can even hear him. He knows she can, though. The glass isn't that thick. She's ignoring him. He wishes it didn't sting as much as it does, but he can't help it. He knows she can't help it, but he just wants her to be okay. He just wants her to turn around and talk to him and tell him that she's fine. He just wants her to say _something_.

"Katie…" He tries to keep his voice as even as possible. "What can I do?"

There's no immediate response, but he just sits there, waiting for her to acknowledge him in any way. Finally, she turns her head toward him, and he sees her face for the first time. Her eyes look dark and empty, and there's no hint of joy anywhere on her face. It hurts him to see, but he forces his own face not to show it.

"Did you get Mary?"

He blinks, surprised both by the fact that she's speaking and also by her question. It takes him a few seconds, but he finally manages a nod and a quiet stuttered out response. "Yeah… Yeah, I went last night."

He doesn't want to think about it or relive it. By the time he got back, somebody had already stolen the shoes off her feet, and she was just lying there in a heap by the wall. She was far from the only body out there last night, but he couldn't deal with any of the rest of them. Mary was so much smaller, so much lighter than the bodies he's used to lifting. He didn't even really need the stretcher, but he used it anyway because he knew carrying her would make things more difficult. He tried to clear his head completely as he zipped up the bag and lifted it onto the stretcher, but he couldn't, of course, and he cried all the way back to the hospital.

He put her jar away from the others, all alone because she had no personal effects at all.

Katie's eyes start to water, and he knows he should say something to soothe her mind. But what do you say to make the horrible death of an eleven year old kid seem any less tragic than it already is? There's nothing.

"Her parents tried to have a baby for sixteen years." Katie blinks away at the tears and closes her eyes for a second. "Sixteen _years_. It never happened, and then they finally adopted Mary…" She draws in a shaky breath before opening her eyes again. "She's _everything_ to them…"

Jake works very hard on keeping the tears out of his own eyes. He can't imagine what it's like, and he doesn't want to. Nobody should have to lose a child like this.

"They're so in love with her." Katie's speaking slowly, like she's having to form each word carefully. "They're so proud of her, and she… she's like the perfect child. She's so sweet and funny and polite and well-behaved… She's the smartest kid in my entire class." Katie shakes her head, and a tear finally leaks out and slides down her cheek. "She was…"

"Katie…"

"I didn't save her. I could have saved her, and I didn't. I wasn't watching her. Her parents _trusted_ me, and I wasn't watching her."

"Katie-"

"This is my fault. I wasn't watching her, and she died. And I didn't do anything to stop it."

"Katie, _please_ listen to me." He's desperate, and he doesn't mean to raise his voice the way he does, but she finally stops and looks over at him. "It's not your fault. Okay? It was an accident, and it was terrible, but it's not your fault."

He needs her to believe him. He needs her to believe him, so he can believe himself. He's been blaming himself ever since it happened- blaming himself for Mary, blaming himself for Katie… Why did he think he could be normal and drop his guard for five minutes? He just wanted a break, and it turned into a tragedy. He should have stopped it before it ever happened. He should have saved Mary. He should have stopped Katie. They should all be fine right now, and they're not. And he knows it's his fault.

But he can't say any of that.

Katie just stares at him. Her face still looks blank and empty, and she just barely shakes her head before she wets her lips and says, "This is the real me, Jake. I'm a shit show."

He shakes his head. "No. No, you're not. You're just upset, and that's normal. You just-"

"I need my medicine."

"I'll get it for you. Just-" He starts to push himself off the floor, but she stops him.

"Don't go yet." She turns around until she's facing him fully, and he stops his movement and turns to face her. She looks scared and hurt, and he feels the key in his pocket practically burning into his skin. "I don't want you to leave."

"I won't leave."

He's never meant a sentence more in his entire life. It means so much more than what it says, and he hopes she understands. He's not leaving. No matter what happens, he won't leave.

They just sit there in silence for a little while, watching each other and both trying to read what's going on behind the surface. Finally, though, he manages to form a sentence and change the subject.

"I delivered a baby today."

That obviously catches her off-guard because her eyebrows lift, and she almost looks like herself for a second. "How was that?"

"Messy." It's the only word he can think of to describe the situation, but it makes the corner of Katie's mouth tick into an almost smile. "Very messy."

"Yeah, that happens."

"She's tiny." He holds his hands up several inches apart. "Like…"

"Was she okay?"

He nods. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so. I mean, I'm not a doctor, but she seemed fine. Just tiny."

"Was it that girl? The teenager?"

He nods. "Yeah. She's still over there with Jana." He shakes his own head- the whole thing seems like a blur. "I never delivered a baby before."

"Really?" Katie actually smiles this time, almost coyly like she's teasing him. He wants her to stay like that.

"It's one of those things they teach you that you never think you'll actually use. Kind of like riot control during a viral outbreak." She purses her lips at him, and he lifts a shoulder. "I mean, maybe they're not that specific."

"So now we get to add OBGYN to the long list of Jake Riley's accomplishments?"

"Uhh… Negative. I never want to do that again."

"Pretty gross, huh?"

"Let's just say I saw things today that I'll be happy to never see again."

Katie laughs, and he wishes he had a tape recorder so he could capture it. It sounds better to his ears than anything ever has in his entire life. He never wants to stop hearing it.

"I was at an OutKast concert when I went into labor with Quentin."

"Seriously?"

She nods and pushes some hair over her shoulder. "Yeah. I kept trying to hold it off because I wanted to get to the encore." She laughs at herself and rolls her eyes.

"Did you make it?"

"No! I finally had to give up, and then we just barely made it to the hospital in time. My friend was pissed, and to this day, I'm still bitter that he couldn't wait another hour or something so I could see Hey Ya."

He stares at her, actually at a loss for words. He opens his mouth and shuts it several times before he finally just ends up laughing.

"Hey, I was nineteen. Don't judge me."

He holds up his hands. "No judging. I just… I think I was at that concert."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Was it here? 2004?" She nods, and he smiles. "Yeah, I was there. I saw Hey Ya."

Her eyes narrow and she sets a fake glare on him. "You are so lucky this glass is here because you deserve to be punched in the face right now."

He laughs. "That's pretty violent."

"And hell, if I had known you were there, I could have just stayed. You could have delivered my baby, too."

"Yeah… I was a senior in high school. I'm pretty sure nobody would have wanted that. Also, I kind of smoked a lot of weed back then." She practically chokes on a laugh, but he just shakes his head. "Don't tell anybody. I'm a cop now. It looks bad."

"Your secret's safe with me, Officer Riley."

"Good. We don't need all my mistakes getting out and ruining my reputation."

"There's more?" She lifts her eyebrows again and smiles. "What other horrible trouble did teenage Jake Riley get into?"

"It's better if you don't know."

"But I _want_ to know."

"It's better for _me_ if you don't know."

She laughs, and he can't believe how completely magical it sounds. He's in way too deep.

"Let's just say, as much of a fuck up as I am now, it was about a billion times worse back then."

She looks at him more seriously, and then she shakes her head. "You're not a fuck up, Jake. At all."

She's wrong. If she knew half of his life outside of the walls of this cordon, she'd probably hate him. That terrifies him a little bit. It scares him because he knows she would never give him the time of day if they met under normal circumstances. It scares him even more to know that he would probably never give iher/i the time of day, either. She's too together for him. The kid, the stable career, all the stuff that makes her so perfect… it's all the stuff that would scare him away. He does a lot better with waitresses in sports bars who are saving up for boob jobs or even the occasional co-ed who successfully flirts her way out of a speeding ticket. Not the mature ones who actually have their life together and stable… that's way too much commitment for him and way more effort than he's willing to put in.

But now he can't think of a single thing he's ever wanted more than to be a part of that together and stable life. Nothing's ever been worth more of an effort, and he's willing to do _anything_ to make it happen.

Katie smiles at him, not the teasing kind from before but the sincere, honest one. "You're so far from a fuck up, you might as well be Superman."

"I thought Thomas had the corner on that market?"

"Well, don't tell Thomas, _but_ … you'd probably look better in the cape."

He grins and tilts his head. "That's all this is. You just want to see me in spandex and a cape."

"I didn't say anything about spandex. That must be your own fantasy."

"So the cape is your fantasy."

She rolls her eyes, but she can't fight the smile on her lips, either. "I'm just saying, it probably wouldn't _suck_."

"I'm pretty sure it would look great."

"Oooh, and you're modest, too. You must really think you're cute."

"I mean, I've heard rumors."

She rolls her eyes again and shakes her head. It takes her a few seconds, but she finally manages a comeback. "Well, anything would be better than the biohazard you've got permanently attached to your body."

He glances down at the grey tank top that's covered in sweat stains and who knows what else. "You know, you've been trying to get me out of this shirt for awhile now. I'm starting to think you have ulterior motives…"

"I'm not doing this with you right now, Jake Riley. My kid is running around here somewhere."

"Nah, he's hanging out with Thomas. I fed him and then distracted him with comic books."

"Did he eat?" She sounds more serious now, so he just nods.

"Yeah, well, he was eating when I came down here."

Katie blinks a few times and then nods. The tone of her voice changes when she continues. "He needs to take a shower before he goes to bed tonight. And sometimes he gets headaches at night. If he does, there's some Children's Tylenol in my purse. He needs 3 teaspoons. Make sure that he doesn't cover his head up when he sleeps. He does that sometimes, and it should be fine, but it's just bet-"

"Katie." He cuts her off. "I got this, okay? You trust me, right?" She looks at him for a second and then nods. "Okay. I've got him. You don't have to worry."

"Thank you." Her voice is quieter, and her eyes drop to her lap for a second. He's worried about what's going on in her head. Neither of them says anything for a little while until she finally lifts her head back up. "His grandparents are Nick and Grace Pinkman. They live in Marietta."

"Katie-"

She doesn't let him break in. "Their numbers are in my phone. The passcode is 1017, it's Quentin's birthday. I know it's not secure, but it's just easy to remember. He knows their numbers, too, in case you forget or can't get to them or something. They might be able to get in touch with my parents, but…" She shakes her head distractedly. "I don't know. I don't know if they'd even care."

"Katie, please." He hears how desperate his own voice sounds, but he doesn't care. "Just… Don't do this, okay?"

She stares at him. "This is important. I need to write things down."

"Just-"

"I need a pen and paper. Jake, I have to write this down."

"Okay," he breaks in quickly and just concedes. "I'll get you some paper."

She nods and looks suddenly like she's half in shock. "Thank you."

"But you're going to be fine." He says it for both of their benefit. He needs to believe it as badly as she does. "We're already more than halfway through the 48 hours. Just a little while longer, okay?"

She doesn't say anything to that. She just stares at him for several long moments, and he can feel all of the painful stuff settling back in. The few minutes of happiness were never going to last, and he was an idiot if he thought otherwise.

He's not sure what he expects her next question to be, but it's definitely not what he hears. She stares straight at him and very seriously asks, "How old were you when your mom died?"

He looks away. He doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to talk about it or think about it or deal with any of it right now. "Katie…"

"Please."

He sighs and closes his eyes for a second before he looks back at her. His chest feels tight and strained, and he knows this can't end well. "Eleven."

She doesn't say anything. She just swallows and nods, her eyes immediately filling with water again as tries to blink it away.

"But that-"

"Who took care of you?" She doesn't let him finish, and he honestly doesn't even know what he was going to say to begin with.

He takes in a breath, trying really hard to keep his face and his voice as blank as possible. "My dad. I guess." He lifts a shoulder. "But he was never that great at being a parent. He drank a lot, and then it got worse after…" He pushes a hand through his hair. "It got worse after my mom died. So I just took care of myself mostly."

"How does an eleven year old know how to take care of himself?"

He doesn't know how to answer that. He doesn't want to get in to all the things he did that got him into trouble. He doesn't want to talk about how much effort he spent just trying to stay invisible and out of his father's way. He doesn't want to think about any of that crap because he's spent a whole lot of years trying desperately to forget all of it. So he just gives the most cryptic answer he can think of.

"I just did what I had to do."

They don't say anything for a little while after that. They both just sit there, and Jake feels slightly uncomfortable with how intensely she's looking at him. It feels like she's trying to read him or find something there that he wants to keep hidden. He doesn't know how to deal with feeling vulnerable like that, so he wraps an arm around his knees and pulls them up to his chest.

"Jake." Katie says his name, and their eyes meet almost instinctively. He waits for whatever it is she has to say even though his brain is starting its own freak out session. It takes her a few seconds, but she finally gets it out. "You're the best man I've ever known." He blinks away his own tears and tries to breathe around the lump in his throat. "I just want you to know that."

He shakes his head. He doesn't want to hear that. He can't handle the way everything she's saying sounds like goodbye. It can't be goodbye. He refuses to accept that. He refuses to accept that they would be ripped apart before they ever really even got a chance to be together. They don't deserve that. They deserve something good. They deserve to be _happy_ , and he knows they could be _so_ happy. They just need a chance.

"You're going to be fine." He hears his voice shake, so he takes a breath. "You're going to be fine, and then I'm going to get us out of here."

"How?"

"I don't know. But I will. I'll get us out of here and away from all of this. I'll figure it out."

"No one in, no one out." She sounds dejected, like she's resigned to some fate he can't wrap his head around. "Those are the rules, right?"

"Fuck the rules." He's even surprised by his own sudden desperation. "I'm sick of their rules. I'm sick of doing all their dirty work for them. They're all out there going on with their lives, and we're stuck in here. And I'm sick of it. I'm not doing anything else for them."

"Jake…"

"I'm just tired." He doesn't even realize how tired he is until he says it out loud. "I can't keep doing all their dirty work. It's not fair…"

"I know… It's not."

"Katie, they're never going to let us out of here." It's the first time he's let himself say it out loud and truly admit it. "We're all just going to die in here. That's all they're waiting on."

She pushes her hair behind her ears and looks down at her lap. "Did they say that?"

"They're not going to say it. Not to me anyway. Or anyone who would tell me. But that's what's happening, I know it." And he does know it. He's been scared to think it or admit it to himself, but it's becoming more obvious every day.

"So what do we do?"

"We have to break out. I know where all the breaks in the barrier are. I just have to figure out the best way to do it."

"What about everyone else?" Katie looks back up at him, and he can't really read the emotion behind her eyes. It's like a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Jake just shakes his head. "I don't care about anyone else. I only care about you. And Quentin. Maybe when we're out, we can help the others, but right now, I'm only worried about you guys. Okay?"

She nods- a little hesitantly, but she nods. "Okay."

"So just hang on a little while longer. I promise everything's going to be okay."

"What happens if we do get out?"

"I don't know." He hasn't thought that far ahead, but he doesn't care. "We can run away. Like move to California or something. I don't care."

She gives him a half-smile. "We can't do that. You promised Quentin you'd take him to a Hawks game."

"Okay, so we'll go to a game, and _then_ we'll run away."

She smiles again and nods, even though he knows she's only placating him. He knows it's not that simple- not for her anyway. He could pick up and move across the country, and people would hardly even notice. It's not the same for her, and he knows that. It still doesn't stop him from fantasizing about some perfect life where they get as far away from Atlanta and this cordon as humanly possible and just live happily ever after as a family. He knows he's getting way too far ahead of himself, but he also doesn't care. He wants that. He wants _her_ and Quentin, and he wants them to be his family. He knows he can't say that out loud because it sounds crazy after only two weeks, but it doesn't matter. He just _knows_ that this is it. She's the one.

"You're going to be okay." He says it for maybe the millionth time, but he knows they both need to hear it. "Everything's going to be fine. I promise."

"Will you just stay here with me?" Katie looks at him, almost like she's nervous to ask. She shouldn't be, though. There's nowhere else he wants to be.

"Yeah. I'll stay right here."

One corner of her mouth lifts, and she leans her forehead against the glass for a second. He wishes so badly that the glass wasn't there so that he could kiss that forehead or touch her hair. When they get out of here, he's going to spend the rest of his life making up for these two weeks of not being able to touch her. She only leaves her head there for a second, though, and she sits back up with a fuller smile and visibly takes in a breath.

"So you still haven't told me the rest of the nefarious misdeeds of your youth."

"See, sometimes I forget you're a teacher, and then you go around saying stuff like nefarious misdeeds."

She smirks. "I teach fifth graders long division. Trust me, it's not that difficult. Every single one of them has a calculator on their cell phone."

"Well, I'm just saying. The people I tend to hang out with don't use words like nefarious misdeeds."

"Well, maybe you should just hang out with me then."

He smiles, more sincerely than he normally does, and nods a little.

"Yeah. Maybe I should."


End file.
